Tales From the Institute
by Lysythe
Summary: Some partially RL, partially crazy stories collected together from the recesses of my XMen:Evo deprived mind.
1. PH34R KITTY'S COOKING!

"…I wanna bake somethin'," Kitty decided out of nowhere. As no one else was around to hear her (and thereby stop her), she marched resolutely to the kitchen and began to gather items that she was certain (well, pretty sure) were required in baking a cake her dear ol' granny used to make.

Mainly, there was flour, baking soda, eggs and milk (chocolate flavour). There was also oregano (she figured it was some kind of powdered flavouring), strawberry ice cream (beginning to melt), jelly powder (for whatever reason) and whole apples and bananas.

Humming happily to herself, she plunked the uncracked eggs into the bowl, poured in the milk and added four cups each of flour and baking soda. She shook in the whole jarful of oregano, tore open the jelly powder wrapping and shook it as hard as she could.

Kurt 'ported in for a quick fix (he knew where Jamie hid his sugar stash, oh yes indeedy), paused in his raiding, looked at Kitty, then grabbed what he could and 'ported away. No one-- not even Toad (okay, maybe him)-- should be forced to sample or even help with Kitty's cooking.

"Hmmph," Kitty mumbled sulkily. She added in the apples and bananas (and an orange or two for Vitamin C goodness), stuck the bowl under the mixer, covered it with the transparent plastic… thingy made especially so the kitchen wouldn't be fouled up with flying mixture debris, and set it on high.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Man, those apples were hard. With another WHAM, she could see the plastic cracking. The next WHAM made the plastic crack fully apart, and the last WHAM lobbed an apple straight at her. It was as if the kitchen appliances had something against her…

"Nah, that's just, like, crazy talk," Kitty said aloud. She tossed the bruised apple into the bin, tilted her head wonderingly at the dented metal pot that the apple had hit, and decided to blame it on Amara. Or Roberto. Yeah, that would work. Him and Ray could have been playing some weird game and dented the pot in the process.

Kitty poured the mix into the cake tin, placed it in the oven and tried to remember at what degree her gran had set the oven. And for how long. She shrugged and set it at the highest degree that was possible for the oven, figuring it would be ready in about a minute.

"Oh mah gawd, Kitty, what th' f'ck didja _do_?" Rogue near-shouted exasperatedly. Both girls were smoke-smudged and Kitty's hair was singed lightly. Surrounding them were the less- grubby- but- nonetheless- dirtied- by- the- aftereffects- of- Kitty's- attempt- to- bake-a- cake members of the X-Men.

"I just, like, wanted to bake a cake," Kitty whined. Ororo, hair mussed, clothes torn, looking thoroughly disheveled, twitched.

"Kitty, that… _thing_ is not a cake," she spat out, pointing to the monstrosity that slopped its way out of the exploded oven. It looked rather like the meal Morticia Addams had made when she was volunteering at her children's school.

"Ah say Kitty is BANNED from tha kitchen," Rogue declared.

"Seconded," said Rahne menacingly.

"All in favour say aye," announced Scott. A resounding "AYE!" came from the crowd, and they dispersed, first jogging, then breaking into a run to the bathrooms to clean themselves up. Kitty just stood, blinking in shock.

"N-no… access? To the kitchen? F-for, like, EVER?"


	2. Escape!

Where we last stopped, Kitty was reeling in shock from the news that she was banned forever from the kitchen. She LIKED cooking. It soothed her. She was sure her food was delicious… come to think of it; she'd never really tried a bit of her cooking. Not one slice of cake or bit of cookie.

Well, maybe her cooking _did_ have disastrous results once… twice… okay, maybe _every_ time. Perhaps she should take up another hobby, like… woodwork. Yeah. Kitty smiled confidently. You can't foul up when it comes to woodwork.

"Oh gawd, she's taking up woodwork," Sam muttered to himself, trying to hide from the intangible Kitty. "Why th' heck's she takin' up woodwork?" _An' why, WHY did Ah evah tell Ray that Ah used ta carve stuff foah mah parents?_ he thought to himself.

"C'mon, Sam, you've, like, GOT to help me with, like, my project!" begged Kitty as she phased through closets and walls, searching for the elusive Sam. "Just one itty bitty wooden kitten! Pleeeeaaasssee…"

Meanwhile, as Kitty's voice faded away, Sam popped up from the pile of Bobby's dirty clothes, shuddering. Bobby's dirty clothes- never sent for washing, never sent for cleaning- were not something you want to curl up inside. Sam made his way to the balcony, stood there, wondering if he would break something were he to jump, then threw caution to the wind and fired off, finally landing amongst the trees. The very, very prickly trees.

The resulting "EEYEOW!" drew Kitty's attention, and she went straight to the nearest window overlooking the forest on the Institute estate. There, bouncing and crashing amid the treetops, was Sam. Kitty leaned out as far as she could.

"HEY, SAM!" she hollered. "ARE YOU TRYING TO, LIKE, ESCAPE FROM ME?"

"YES!" was the answer.

"HAHA, VERY FUNNY. NICE SARCASM," she yelled back.

"AH WASN'T BEIN' SARCASTIC!" Sam shouted as he tried to get away from the oddly bouncy treetops.

At last free, he managed yet again to evade Kitty and went directly to the 'Hood House. He knocked on the door, hurriedly looking himself over. Tabby opened the door.

"Sam?" she said incredulously. "What the fuck's up with ya? You look like- like- like Orlando Bloom after he's been chased by rabid fangirls. Without the good looks, o' course." Sam just gave her Rogue's patented Death Glare™. Tabby backed away, putting her hands up in a defensive position. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need ta give me the Rogue imitation. So, why're ya here?"

"Ah need a hidin' place," Sam responded. "Kitty got banned from th' kitchen an' she decided to take up woodwork, an' 'cause Ah used ta do woodwork too, she wants me ta help 'er."

"Yikes," Tabby observed. "If her cooking and driving skills are any indication, woodwork'd be a disaster too. Tell ya what, you can have the sofa until Kitty decides to do something else." She strode back in, Sam trailing in her wake. And what a nice wake (coughbuttcough) it was.

"Hey, fellas!" Tabby yelled. "We got a temporary guest!" There was a thundering down the stairs, from the kitchen, and from the living room. First appeared Pietro from his room upstairs, then Freddy from the kitchen, Toad from _his_ room upstairs, and finally Lance from the living room.

"Aw, great, we got an X-geek," Pietro groaned.

"What're ya doin' _here_, X-geek?" Lance asked snidely. Sam stood his ground and put forth Rogue's Death Glare™ as best he could. All four 'Hood boys shrank back, each relieving the horrible memories of Rogue's brief stint as a 'Hood girl.

"Ah wouldn't _be_ here if'n it weren't f'r yer girlfriend's terrible cookin' skills," Sam spat out.

(Insert divider)

Ooh, standoff! Will Lance admit Kitty's cooking is worse than being sent to Antarctica naked? Or will he defend his beloved's honour? Stay tuned!


	3. Smurfette LIVES!

"Ah. Kitty's cooking strikes again," Lance sighed.

"Even my stomach can't handle anything she cooks," Freddy noted.

"Yeah, and- he- once- ate- a- whole- vat- of- chili- cheese- chips," Pietro added. _That- I- added- laxatives- to_, he added silently.

"Wahll, Ah reckon if'n anyone knows woodwork, ya'll should shaddup 'bout it, 'cause Kitty's on tha loose, askin' if'n anyone c'n help 'er make a wooden kitten statue," Sam said, feeling somewhat tired. "Any a' y'all got spare clothes? Ah don't feel much lahke stayin' here lookin' lahke Ah've been mauled."

"I could run you up some PJ's," Pietro said, sizing Sam up critically. "Do you like bunnies or froggies?"

"Solids. NO PRINTS," Sam demanded.

A few minutes later, Sam held an armful of Smurf-blue PJ's. They chivvied him bathroomwards and he came out looking like a shorthaired Smurfette.

Tabby choked back a snicker and suggested he throw those away and sleep in his underwear.

Toad chortled and offered Sam his old overalls; they were paint-covered, slime-stained and shrunken.

Freddy hooted and proffered a shirt Toad had bought for him, which was about ten sizes too small.

Lance just guffawed.

Sam half-considered making stink bombs to revenge himself upon them. Then he remembered Rahne.

"Uh, where's th' phone?" Sam inquired. "Ah gotta call Rahne so's she won't worry 'bout meh."

"I think I'd better call for you," Lance said pragmatically. "Kitty might pick up and find out where you are."

"Good idea," Tabby agreed. "And you might even get a date out of it."

Fortunately, Rahne was the one who answered. Lance managed to stop her from yelling for Kitty automatically when she heard his voice and explained where Sam was. Then he passed the phone to Sam. Their conversation went something like this.

"Babe?"

"Sam! It _is _ye!"

"Yeh. Anyway, ya'd better tell th' Prof where Ah am."

"I ken, he's probably worried 'bout ye. Still, I cain't b'lieve Kitty'd wanna take up woodwork."

"Ah know! Somethang musta gone wrong in 'er head."

And so it went on, until Freddy wrestled Sam off the phone (they couldn't afford that big a phone bill).


	4. What's so bad about 'intervention' ?

It was two weeks before Sam could return to the Institute. During that fortnight, he still went to school, constantly having to evade Kitty. He was helped enormously by Lance, who distracted her with flowers (which Sam had to pay for), and by Jean, who telepathically warned him when Kitty was near.

At the end of two weeks, Kitty had given up on woodwork. She had turned to gymnastics and acrobatics.

Kurt and Jubilee began hiding at the 'Hood House.

"We should be chargin' fer this, yo," Toad remarked after the third time, when Rahne had come and gone, having been chased after for sewing lessons. Kitty was vexed terribly.

Lance was getting tired of these goings-on. When Scott appeared, being the only one who knew how to surf (and poorly), Lance blew up.

"GodBLEEEPing BLEEP it!" he roared. "Are you guys so BLEEEEPing scared of Kitty!"

"...yes?"

"Good thing none of us ever went over to the dork side," Pietro remarked. "Well, except for boss rockman."

Lance made a mental note to trash Pietro's room later.

"What we need," decided Tabby, " is to forcibly convince Kitty to STOP."

"How we gonna do that, yo? She can make stink noodle bombs."

"What we need," Freddy said sensibly, " is an intervention."

Crickets chirped. Everyone stared at him. 'Intervention' was the longest word anyone had ever heard him say. Scott had begun shaking.

"Dude, chill," Pietro rolled his eyes. "Just 'cause Freddy said a big word doesn't mean ya have to freak."

"It's not the fact that he said it," Scott squeaked. "It's the fact that he said IT!"

"What, intervention?" Lance stared at Scott. Scott yelped and dived under the table.

Pietro blinked and cogs began turning in his head. He got an idea and zipped round, whispering successively into the ears of Tabby, Lance and Toad. He skipped Freddy. Intervention was probably the longest word he knew.

"How about supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?" asked Tabby, smirking. Scott 'meep'ed and curled into a ball.

"Antidisestablishmentarianism?" suggested Toad with a grin. There came a yell of anguish from Scott.

"Floccinaucinihilipilification!" cried Lance triumphantly. Scott shrieked.

Pietro bent low and said coolly to Scott, "Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia." Scott gave a small weeping cry.

"What's the last one?" Freddy wondered aloud, scratching his head.

"It's what he's got," Pietro said with a small smile of satisfaction. "Fear of long words."


End file.
